Wisps of Tales and Dreams
by Whispering Darkness
Summary: A collection of shorts, plotbunnies and vignettes. Because my list of one-chaptered stories is becoming quite long, and the list of ideas and unfinished and abandoned bits and pieces on my pc even longer. So far, this contains stories in the Harry Potter, Spirited Away, FFVII, Naruto and Avengers fandoms.
1. Follow in their Footsteps (HP)

**To follow in their footsteps...**

**...each for reasons of their own**

** (But mostly because it'd be awesome)**

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><p>It was one of the most horrifying things that could have happened.<p>

He _really_ should have known better than to get his hopes up. But no, he had been so excited to follow into the footsteps of his father, of Sirius, of _the Marauders_ – and to become an animagus.

It was awe-inspiring that they had managed something like this in their fifth year at Hogwarts. For Harry, Ron and Hermione it was a few years later than that. But then, they had been busy during their Hogwarts years – with plots and danger and a brewing war. And then the _actual_ war. Hunting, hiding, fighting, dying, rebuilding, grieving, celebrating - there was always something more important to do.

Until suddenly there wasn't and their whole future lay open before them.

And while Hermione was talking about reforms and joining the Ministry and Ron was going on about Aurors and Hit Wizards and Quidditch, Harry Potter, twenty years old and completely free for the first time in his life said those damning words.

"But before all that we could take a bit of a breather. I've always wanted to become an animagus like Sirius and my dad."

And that was that. Because there was no chance that, after everything, they'd deny him this. Especially because Hermione had always been fascinated by discovering new and interesting forms of magic and Ron was eager enough to do something, well, _awesome_.

It took research, potions, mental practices – Hermione had made a detailed schedule and Harry and Ron didn't mind humouring her and going along with it because it saved them the trouble of doing all the research themselves.

And then the day was there – the day Hermione had marked with a brilliant green ink spelling out 'first transformation'.

Hermione went first – her form a beautiful and graceful owl and Harry laughed because it was both wonderful and fitting. Then was Ron's turn, because by unspoken agreement they had all decided that Harry would go last.

Both Hermione and Harry were surprised at the large, intimidating animal suddenly in front of them, but the bear looked more comical than dangerous due to the strange sounds it was making and the way it twisted around, trying to take a look at his own body parts. When Ron finally changed back, the three of them grinned at each other in a moment of victory.

And then, suddenly, Harry's turn had come up.

No more delay, the moment of truth – he'd finally find out his animagus form. All these months spent preparing he had wondered. Wondered and worried because what if he turned into a snake or something, because of his ability to speak parseltongue? Or what if he turned into some other sort of dark creature because he used to have a dark lord with a direct link to his mind? Or what if he was something tiny, pathetic and useless, what if he was a _rat_ like Pettigrew?

Yes, he had worried, but he'd also _hoped_ – he'd imagined being a great eagle, a lion or even a stag like his father.

But what if he _wasn't_?

There were no do-overs in an animagus transformation. There was only one animal at the core of one's being, and although that animal may change during a person's lifetime, that first transformation made it fixed. Even if his personality changed, if his core animal changed with time and experiences, his animagus form would always remain the same.

Which was why it was probably a good thing that they were doing this now, and _not_ during their fifth year in Hogwarts – when Harry had still been a Horcrux.

With a sharp nod to his friends who smiled at him with encouragement and support, Harry squared his shoulders and _changed_.

And utter silence fell between them.

He stared nervously at Ron and Hermione, reading in their expressions of utter shock that _yes_, he had done it again – Harry Potter, Boy-who-lived-to-never-be-normal. Dread was pooling in his stomach and he was afraid to look down at his body.

Finally it was Ron who broke the silence; "Blimey, mate. You're still a virgin?"

His mind drew a blank when he considered why the hell Ron would ask him _that_ at a moment like this. Then realization dawned, slowly but inescapably – moving in like a rolling fog.

'No…' he tried to say. What came out was a little high-pitched _whinny_.

He looked pleadingly at Hermione, wanting her to tell him it was all a vicious lie.

"Oh Harry, you are _beautiful_!"

Ah, hell no. He sat down, his horse's legs sprawling out awkwardly. He should have known something like this would happen. He should have _known_.

"Yes mate, you look, magical," Ron managed in between bursts of laugher, "Look at you – the defeater of The Dark Lord, Saviour of Wizarding Britain… So very _pure_ of _heart_."

Harry changed back.

"Ron, stop laughing. This is not a bad thing!" Hermione scolded, "You really do look beautiful Harry, and not many people can change into magical creatures, so it's really quite brilliant."

Yes, _brilliant_. He pouted. Magic really did have it in for him. This was arguably even _worse_ than being a snake or some dark creature. Ron would never, ever let him live this down.

And he had _so_ wanted to be an eagle.

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><p><strong>A.N.<strong> Well, I wrote this a few weeks ago - because with all the animagus Harry stuff that'd been going around my head, I couldn't _not_ write this.


	2. Bad days and bars (Naruto)

**Bad days and bars (because they have a causal connection)**

** …or why taking up drinking is a viable life-choice**

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><p><em>Warning for coarse language (should this be rated M?)<em>

* * *

><p>"Hey, where have you been? I thought you were just going to see about sending a package but I haven't seen you all day."<p>

Miya shot him a dead look and moved right past him to the bar where she ordered and payed for a large bottle of sake. Then she retreated to a more quiet corner and sat there, sulking, waiting for her drink to be brought.

Kotestu didn't take the hint and sauntered after her. "Well, you look grumpy. Had a bad day?"

"I hate shinobi. And after I leave I am never setting foot in this thrice cursed village again," Miya said harshly.

"Ouch. That hurts. And you seemed like such a nice person too. Were you always this mean?"

She ignored him – because he was one of _them_. Sure, he seemed nice when she first entered the village, friendly and really not that scary. So she thought, hey, these people aren't as bad as everyone says. She knew better now, those dratted paranoid shinobi are as bad as every story made them out to be.

The bartender brought her the entire sake bottle she'd ordered and she nodded to him shortly. She could afford it and she had really earned the right to indulge after the day she had. "Praise the Kami," she said reverently, as she poured that first saucer of sake and swallowed it down without pause.

"Are you going to drink that entire bottle?" a dark-haired ninja chewing on a long needle asked her full of amusement as he joined them at _her_ _table_.

She gave him a firm, unimpressed look. To her side she heard Izumo-san snort. "Yes I am, shinobi-san, yes I am. I will drink so much that I will hopefully not remember a single thing that happened today."

The dratted man grinned and picked up one of the three other saucers the bartender had so thoughtfully provided (with the assumption that the bottle was meant for more than one person). He presumptuously poured himself a small amount of sake and took a sip. "Hey. This is the good stuff. Expensive."

"I'm not in the habit of drinking," she informed the three men at her table, who were, apparently, not budging, "But if I'm going to drink it's going to be 'the good stuff'. I earned it, anyway. I just spend six hours in a room with the most sadistic bastard I ever had the displeasure of meeting."

"Who? Morino Ibiki?" Izumo joked.

Miya looked up, feeling somewhat vindicated. "Ah! So it's not just me who thinks that! Not if he's the first name that comes to mind for you."

"Wait what? Why!?" Kotestu-san was the one who asked the question, but all three of them were looking at her like they'd never seen her before.

"Because apparently making inquiries about sending confidential mail and wondering if anyone would read it, and then deciding _not_ to send _your private mail_ is highly suspicious." Miya filled another saucer and downed it quickly.

"If that was all it would have been resolved easily enough if you'd just let who-ever Intelligence sent read your mail."

She glared at the matter-of-fact; "Well _Intelligence_ send Morino Ibiki and I had gotten the hint what sort of _utter paranoid fuckers_ shinobi were by then so I didn't exactly refuse." The sake had loosened her tongue enough by now to let the curse come out, despite the fact that she wasn't usually so _outspokenly_ vulgar.

Izumo and Kotetsu had already pegged her as someone with an easy-going and somewhat introverted personality in the preceding days, so they laughed at the unexpected venom.

"So he had my _private_ mail, and I had some half-hearted assurances that they were all professionals and my confidentiality would not be infringed. I'm pretty sure that the rest of it was _purely_ because that asshole gets off on watching innocent civilians suffer. Because there can be _no such rule_ that the person who wrote the mail has to be there when it is read through no matter _how_ much that ass tried to bullshit me with his 'in case we need to ask for clarification' and 'so that we may witness the sender's reactions and see if there's a deeper meaning'."

She growled at the memory and glared at all three shinobi because they were there.

"Innocent?" an amused rumbling voice questioned dubiously, ignoring the rest of her rant.

Aiko didn't need to look up to know who it was. She moaned and lay her head down on the table. "I thought that after that traumatizing experience I would never have to see you again."

"Aaah. I see. Well, that's more along the lines of wishful thinking than innocence Miya-chan."

How _dare_ that bastard sound so amused after keeping her in that windowless room _all day_ while he read the _entire _copy of her book that was to be send to the publisher. "I hate you with every fiber of my being. And I will have my revenge," she said tonelessly, head still down on the table, "It will be so subtle it might as well be non-existent. It will likely by highly pathetic and you may never know it happened. But _I _will know. And I will revel in it. And it _will_ come."

"It will _come_." Ibiki repeated, his voice low and almost seductive. "And you will... _revel_ in it. I can tell that you're a writer."

She actually groaned and started softly banging her head on the table. "Please stop talking to me," she actually _begged_, not that she thought it would do much good - she'd already figured out he was completely _merciless_ after he read the three chapters out loud in its entirety and just wouldn't stop no matter what she said (or threatened).

Her worst fears were confirmed when she heard a chair softly scrape across the floor. She groaned even louder and blindly tried to find her sake saucer. Some kind, noble soul bumped it against her hand. "Bless you," she told it fiercely, and she lifted her head enough to take a sip.

Yes, maybe she could survive this - if only she managed to ignore That Man's presence. That shouldn't be too hard, right? She'd just pretend that he didn't exist. _That chair was empty_.

With a firm nod she lifted herself into a somewhat upright position.

"Back with us?" Izumo-san asked laughingly.

"Unfortunately," she told him with a glare.

He snorted, "Hey, whatever happened to 'bless you'?"

"You are blessed. Now scram. Leave me to my sake and my misery, all of you."

They didn't. Stupid shinobi. They all pretended they didn't hear her and started trivial conversations with each other. Miya decided to ignore them in turn. That worked, for a while, but there was something bothering her about that dark-haired shinobi, and the longer she was in his presence the more it irked her. Even when she didn't look at him, she still couldn't relax because she could feel that it was still there, but why? Finally she couldn't take it anymore.

"Ok, why the hell are you sucking on a needle?" she shot out to the man in question. The ninja just grinned at her around the needle.

"It's a senbon." Kotetsu-san helpfully offered.

She gave him a weirded-out look and waited for a further explanation. There wasn't one.

Great.

And then it got worse because The Asshole made his presence known once more.

"Oi, Kakashi!" Ibiki called to a ninja with the most ridiculous haircut she had ever seen.

This new masked shinobi was either confused or hesitant because he didn't move their way right away. Instead he took a good long look at everyone in their corner before finally deciding it was safe enough to come over (or that he was curious enough to risk it).

Miya just felt the sense of doom increasing. She downed another saucer of her sake to silence the feeling.

"Miya-chan, this is Hatake Kakashi," Ibiki introduced in the most friendly tone she'd ever heard him use.

She looked at her erstwhile 'interrogator' in dismay. "What the fuck are you so happy about, you sadistic shit?" She then glared at the silver-haired shinobi for good measure. Yes, she got rather… honest after having a lot to drink. Most of the time it made for friendly and somewhat embarrassing conversations, where she admitted to childhood secrets and awkward truths too easily.

Right now, though, it made her cuss. Because that man was a sadistic _asshole_ and she was just telling it as it was.

"Nothing in particular," Morino Ibiki replied easily, completely unbothered.

To add insult to injury, so was the newly introduced Hatake. His one visible eye closed into a happy curve. "Nice to meet you."

She blinked at him and then she visibly deflated and looked mournfully at her sake saucer. It was empty. It was the only thing that could make this situation somewhat bearable. She refilled it.

She heard Kotetsu smother a laugh. She ignored him.

"You know." She said after a hint of liquid tranquilizer that dulled her emotional pain just enough that she could stand to speak with them. "I seem to recall that I claimed this table to be alone and wallow in my misery. With my own personal bottle of sake," here she glared at the shinobi who had dared to sample it before. "So why, for the love of all that's good in this world, _are you here_?"

"Well, you seemed to be rather grumpy," Izumo ventured, "We were just being good friends and sharing your pain."

"Exactly. Sharing is good," the brown-haired guy added helpfully and his hand darted to her sake bottle again.

She growled at him. The shinobi was not deterred. She mourned the loss of yet another saucer of sake – she had a feeling she was going to need every last drop of that bottle.

She _hated_ these dratted shinobi. And one of them above all others. Her hard eyes turned to the root of all evil in this world. The Root of All Evil smirked at her and explained his presence calmly. "I was just doing you a favor; introducing Kakashi. I had a feeling you'd get along well. After all, you have similar interests."

Hatake Kakashi had pulled out a book in the meantime and was mostly ignoring them. It was a book with a familiar glaringly orange cover.

A little sob escaped her lips. Morino Ibiki's smirk widened.

"You ninja are all evil. And perverted."

"_We_ are the perverted ones?" The Bastard drawled "I don't think we could outmatch _your_ sexual fantasies."

A part of her died the fiery death of shame. The other part of her was desperately trying to defend her own honor by pointing out the large flaw in his. "Hey! Whatever happened to confidential, huh? Whatever happened to 'we're just doing our job, as professional ninja's, making sure that no dangerous information leaves this village. Your personal mail will not be shared beyond this necessity.'" Her imitation of his voice was an utter failure. She ignored it. So did he.

The other ninja at the table were looking at the verbal sparring match, openly entertained. Except for Kakashi, she couldn't quite tell if he was paying attention – let alone what he was feeling. What she _did_ know was that she was doomed, because she knew by now that The Evilest One had an answer for everything, not a shred of human decency and no shame or mercy whatsoever.

So it was a bit less of a match and a little bit more like a slaughter.

"Oh yes, we are _all_ professionals here," The One Without Mercy uttered, "I'm a professional in torturing people. Kakashi is a professional in killing them. You're a professional at making them aroused. To each their own."

"WHAT THE FUCK. Did you just call me a whore?" She practically screamed. For a moment the bar was completely silent. Then everyone went on with what they were doing. They were used to (Anko) much worse.

Ibiki shrugged his shoulders. "I was just saying that you have no room to call anyone else perverted."

"Enough!" she declared, standing up and throwing up her arms to the heavens (or the roof of the bar as the case may be) "Fine, I get it – procrastination is _bad_. No more putting off the last read-through of your book and sending it off at the last moment. Especially not if you know you're going to be in a ninja village because _apparently_ confidentiality and privacy and _normal human decency_ doesn't mean jack shit there. I get it, I learned my lesson. Now for the love of Kami-sama and innocent kittens, leave me in peace."

She took a deep breath, sat down, gave a little hiccup-y sob and accepted the sympathetic pat on the back Izumo gave her. Despite the fact that his 'there, there' sounded highly amused.

Her hand reached for the sake she had rightly deserved after her new resolution. Because she was turning over a new leaf, no matter how hard it would be for her - she would not procastinate on any of her writing anymore and was now working towards a brighter future with a lesson well learned.

She would likely also take up drinking as a habit, because there was no way she could function in this world without hard liquor after the trauma of the day.

The _senbon_-chewing shinobi kindly refilled her saucer and gently put it in her hand. Then he refilled his own. She still gave a grateful smile for his kindness despite the fact that he was a presumptions ninja bastard and that she still didn't know his name. Some things were more important, after all, and today the sake was one of them.

She drank down the sake and made one more resolution. "I am also never writing porn again, pen name or not. The Icha Icha series is dead. From now on it will be children's books again, written under my own name."

Then a devilish idea formed in her mind on the heels of that. "And I've got a perfect idea all thought out. The plot needs some work, but the character of Mobino Iriti is already formed in my mind. Yes. He shall look like a grumpy bear, but with a puddly, cuddly heart and there shall be kittens and rainbows. And children. And possibly brightly coloured underwear worn on the outside of his clothes because, he will assure the children, that's what superhero's look like. It will likely be pink, now that I think about it."

The Cause of All the World's Suffering didn't look impressed. Or horrified.

She frowned. He could have at least _pretended_ to be bothered. But no, that would require human decency, something The Soulless Creature was obviously devoid of.

She looked at the other occupants of her table. Kotetsu-san and Izumo-san stared at her in utter surprise. She glanced between them for a long moment, trying to see if that surprise would turn judgy in any way. It didn't. Good. These shinobi had _no right_ to judge her for what she did for a living - not when they were all of a far more dubious moral fiber than herself, thank you very much.

Her gaze turned to the up-to-then disinterested and unruffled ninja. For some reason, Hatake Kakashi looked like he was going to cry.

Shinobi were so strange. And also evil. _Let him_ cry, she thought vindictively. Then felt rather bad about it. Maybe her time spent in Morino Ibiki's presence was having an effect on her? Oh Kami, what if he was sucking out her soul even now? What if she would soon be like him. She turned her horror-filled eyes back to It.

He looked like any other shinobi, a bit off, but not inhuman.

She knew better and watched him suspiciously for any sign of soul-sucking.

"Don't you think going from writing smut to children's books is a rather drastic change?" the nameless man finally offered, after a long moment of silent expression at their table.

Miya turned to him, and was reminded of her new resolution. Ah yes, she was turning over a new leaf. Her eyes turned teary at the resurgence of her memories of the many hours she had spent in _that room_ today. "I just spent the day suffering for my sins," she said, piously, "the gods have no mercy on us. And neither does That Guy. He read it _all_. Most of it out loud. He made _suggestions_. He piled up embarrassment over embarrassment until my soul cried out in shame."

Yes, that sounded about right. Then she realized she had forgotten to add the most important reason she could never write another such book again.

"And after those six hours, I'll never be able to write another 'Icha Icha' chapter without hearing his voice as the narrator in my head."

The Vengeance of the Gods laughed.

Hatake Kakashi looked _broken_.

Miya stared mournfully at the empty sake bottle and saw that the last bit of sake was in the senbon-sucking guy's hands.

She still didn't know his name.

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><p><strong>A.N.<strong> Soo… yeah. What if 'Icha Icha' had been a bit more plot oriented, still rather steamy and hadn't been written by Jiraiya? (Because it's an open secret that women enjoy reading or writing smut a lot more. Right? Right. I'm pretty sure I'm right.)

Also, instead of this story, I was actually imagining the 'interrogation' conversation between Ibiki and Miya (the author of Icha Icha, vacationing in Konoha and being a little behind on her deadlines) and how that came about... (because I've taken up crochetting and the mind wanders - usually to strange imagined conversations between ficitional and otherwise imaginary characters, but maybe that's just me). But by the time I settled behind the keyboard, that idea had faded and my mind had moved on to... here.

I'm sorry. Why am I posting this?

This is the second 'conversation in Konoha's shinobi bar' story I've written so far. But I'm too embarrassed to post the first.

What does that tell you? (That it's even more random, weirder and more disturbing and strange than this. Also sextalk again, which always makes me hesitate to post. I don't mind reading smutty stuff, but posting something not remotely _that_ _sexy_ makes me squirm. (Seriously, Sealed with a Deal was totally T and I still felt weird about it.))

And I know there is so much worse. I have a profile on AO3. I have seen things I cannot unsee and read things I cannot unread.

(But maybe if I take up drinking...)


	3. Growing up Sideways (SA)

**Growing up Sideways**

**(...it's better this way)**

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><p>She is no longer the frightened child who clings to her mother's arm.<p>

The world, in all its wonder and strangeness doesn't intimidate her. New places, new people are now seen as adventures and ways to make new friends – but she always makes sure to stay polite and to learn the rules.

Rules were important, after all. They could safe you or condemn you.

(Don't take what isn't yours to take. Don't invite greed in. Be persistent and don't falter. Don't let them turn you away.)

She loved rivers. She could spend hours watching the flow of the water. It baffles her father and frightens her mother because even if she was too young to really remember it, she had almost drowned one day (and lost her shoe).

In those few days she had learned to stand taller. She had grown up – not to an adult, not really, because she couldn't see the world in the same way her parents and teachers did… in ways of money, and ambition and complications.

Instead, she still believed in friendship, in forgiveness, in gods and magic and everything is possible.

She had grown up in a different direction. She had grown into herself, and she was more herself than she'd ever been.

Moving, saying goodbye – these things were less sad to her now. Because she had found that 'goodbye' sometimes meant 'hello again' and regaining something she had not really forgotten, just not-remembered.

So she went wherever life would take her – freely and fearlessly, wondering what she would find after every new bend in the road (and in every river she crossed).

She moved on and lived and learned and gained friends and said goodbye, never really stopping to look back when there was so much to look forward to.

But she never forgot, and a part of her heart was always and forever reserved. And she didn't cry or brood or try to find her way back.

Because he had promised her that someday they would see each other again.

_He had promised_.

And she was no really a grown up, so she still believed in promises.

The world was a magical place, even if the wonder of it was not always as apparent as it had been there. But Chihiro had become very good at seeing the wonder where others could not and finding the beauty in all of those supposedly childish, un-complicated things.

So she explored her world and lived her life.

And waited for the time they could explore it together.

* * *

><p><strong>A.N.<strong> I watched Spirited Away yesterday! It had been a _long_ time since I saw that movie - I guess I could focus more on the details this time than when I first saw it. It's still good. :)

So yeah, I'm sort of trying to understand Chihiro a little. She looked so much more put together at the end - all self-assured when she had to pick which of the pigs were her parents. (That's a great sentence.)

(Ok, so how many of you read this just to figure out which fandom I meant with SA?) :P


	4. Flowers in careful hands (FFVII)

**Flowers in careful hands**

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><p>He sat on one of the pews, close to the center of the church and watched as Aerith busied herself with her flowers. While he waited for her to finish, his mouth was almost constantly in motion – he couldn't help but fill the silence with little anecdotes about anything that had happened since he last saw her.<p>

Zack was aware that some people considered him annoying: too loud, too lively, too enthusiastic. But he wasn't the sort of person who would let that stop him. He was who he was and the people around him got used to it eventually.

But Aerith had accepted him so easily and fully that it sometimes awed him, just a little bit. Because no matter how cheerful and warm as she was, she was also small and fragile, and she had _told him_ that she was afraid of SOLDIERs.

But here he was, SOLDIER through and through and she'd never once flinched. She had let him into her world and he was more than happy to be a part of it.

And yes, she was quiet, where he was loud.

Her smiles were kind, while he tended to grin.

When she was deep in thought, she tilted her head slightly and was still. When Zack was thinking he would hum, and fidget, and tap his arms or face.

She was so very gentle with everything she touched – Aerith was such a beautiful, fragile form and not unlike a flower herself. And he, well, _he_ was a fighter, a killer. His hands were calloused by the large sword he wielded and his muscled form was filled with an enhanced strength that scared most people away.

But none of that mattered, because no matter what battles he fought, no matter which rank he reached and how powerful he became, when his mako-bright eyes rested on her they would contain only softness. When Aerith stood up, brushed off the dirt and smiled at him, he would _always_ bound forward as happily as he did now. And when his hand enveloped hers, his grip was so much more careful than anyone who had ever called him careless would have believed.

Because this was _Aerith_ and he handled her has tenderly as she treated her flowers.

And they were both the same after all, because they both loved and protected the fragile, pretty things that, despite everything, tried to reach for the warmth of the sun.

* * *

><p><strong>A.N.<strong> I'm trying out prompts, because. Well, because I've been trying stuff out lately. This was a sort of flash fiction prompt thing with a 500 word limit, on deviantart. In this case the word was 'tender'.

Apparently I'm still stuck in the FFVII fandom…

**Word count:** 407

(say, do titles count in a word count?)


	5. To slip between (SA Naruto)

**To slip between**

**(...more than rules)**

* * *

><p>For some people it's easier to slip between worlds than for others.<p>

Well, _easy_ is not exactly the right term, because it's not as if they always (or ever) do it on purpose, and there are rules, conditions, that have to be followed. Though just _what_ those conditions were is sometimes difficult to figure out. The rules were always different and there was no way to tell in advance just what they would be.

But still, rules were important, Chihiro knew that better than most. They could save you or condemn you.

(Don't take what isn't yours to take. Don't invite greed in. You need to eat or you will fade away. You need to work or you'll be considered useless.)

Those rules in the spirit world had made sense – and the crossing into that world had made sense as well. She had _felt_ it; that they were going somewhere humans were not supposed to go, like an innate sense telling her something new and frightening was coming.

She had listened to those feelings. Her parents hadn't listened to _her_.

Adults could be stupid like that sometimes.

But thankfully Haku had been there. She hadn't been alone and in the end, _that_ is what had saved her even more than the rules: friendship, love, hope and doing the right thing.

And Chihiro had saved him in turn, because that is how friendship and love both worked.

(_We will see each other again._

Promise?

_I promise_.)

That was over a year ago. But even now, as she could feel her feet slipping in the wet autumn leaves, sending her tumbling down the slope she had been climbing… even as she could _sense_ herself slipping from her world – she didn't doubt that promise.

Wherever they were, wherever _she_ was, they would find each other again, somehow.

Someday.

* * *

><p>Chihiro carefully sat up, rubbing the leg she had bumped against a tree. It wasn't too bad so she stood, absent-mindedly brushing off the dirt and leaves from her clothes, and started looking around.<p>

There was still a slope, but surrounding and on top of it was a true forest, not just the few occasional trees that had been there only moments ago. And it was darker here, with most of those trees blocking out the sun.

She wondered what the conditions had been that made her end up here. And what the rules were for going back. They hadn't been too complicated in the spirit world.

(You need to cross the river, quickly! Go!)

The girl shrugged and climbed back up the slope. She looked around but saw no sign of what she should do. (Can you give me a hint, obaasan?)

Her hand went to her hair and rested upon her hairband. It was still as strong and shiny as the moment she had received it, despite the many months of constant use – she always wore it, usually in her hair, but when her hair was loose it dangled around her wrist. Because it's always better to be safe than sorry, and it's rude to not use a gift, especially a gift of friendship.

In the here and now there were no hints and no beings she could discern. So she started walking.

(No use in sitting down and crying, she had long since learned. If she wanted to go back, she would have to find the way herself. But then, that was nothing new – and there was no rule saying she couldn't find some sort of help.)

She walked and walked even as it got darker. There were no people and no friendly lanterns to lead the way and she started to worry and wonder if perhaps she should try to find some food – some berries maybe? Because what if she didn't find anyone to tell her any of the rules and she faded away?

These thoughts were ruminating in her mind when she finally came across something different than trees and bushes and fallen leaves. Smoke.

Without hesitation she walked towards it. (She is no longer the frightened child who clings to her mother's arm.)

Well, at least _one_ rule seemed to work normally in this world: where there was smoke, there was fire. And near the merrily burning fire there was a person.

So far, so good. Chihiro thought.

The person was looking in her direction, despite the fact that she should still be mostly hidden in the shadows between the trees. She shrugged and stepped forward, so that the being could see her clearly.

"Excuse me for intruding," she greeted respectfully and bowed deeply.

When she straightened herself again, the strange-looking man was staring at her – his expression was hard to read on such an inhuman face. She was not deterred and smiled at him. "May I sit at your fire for a moment?"

The person raised an eyebrow and spoke in an amused voice: "Oh, sure, be my guest." His grin revealed white rows of sharp, pointed teeth.

Chihiro smiled in thanks and took a seat on the forest ground, sighing in contentment and she felt the fire warm her.

"Now what brings a tiny little civilian girl all the way out here, to the edges of Fire Country?" the blue-grey man drawled slowly when she was settled down next to him.

She bowed her head politely, "ah, sorry, but I got lost."

"I've never seen a _lost child_ this far from any village. But then, if there _had_ ever been a lost child in my general vicinity I'm pretty sure they wouldn't have walked _towards_ me."

She shrugged at his biting sarcasm. Despite being a little rough around the edges, this man seemed nice enough. At least he hadn't shouted out 'human' and tried to eat her. And he looked far less frightening than some of the inhabitants of the spirit world, even if he _did_ have something that looked like a really big sword, all wrapped up in white bandages. That was rather strange, but then, from the sound of it, she seemed rather strange to him too.

"Where are you from?" the man continued his questioning, his voice, strangely enough, was not curious at all – more like he was already bored with the conversation. But if he wasn't interested, then why would he ask? Well, she supposed he might be hiding his curiosity. Chihiro knew a little about facades by now, about hiding your true feelings. She wasn't any good at seeing through them, and couldn't really do it herself, but she was no longer confused when someone acted differently in different situations.

(Are there _two_ Hakus?)

Either way, he had asked and since she was imposing it was only polite to answer, "I'm from Shōwa."

"Shōwa?" he repeated dubiously.

"It's a village."

"Never heard of it," the large man said flatly.

Chihiro giggled softly, she was not surprised. She seemed to have landed in a different world again, after all. It would have been surprising if he _had_ heard of it.

"What?"

She waved her hands, "Eh, it's nothing."

"You're a very strange girl," he informed her, as if it was a conclusion he had just come to.

She couldn't help but beam at him, because she had heard that many times before in her life – especially _after_ her time at Yubaba's bathhouse. But she had never been told these words by someone who looked very much like a mixture between a human and a shark. "Ah," she nodded in agreement. "My name is Ogino Chihiro, nice to meet you."

"Hoshigaki Kisame," was his brusque reply.

They sat mostly in silence after that, for what felt like hours. The night had fallen upon them in earnest now, but autumn was not as cold here as it had been back home and the warmth of the fire was a blissful blanket.

She lay back, looking up at what stars she could see between the trees. The night was pretty and she hummed a soft happy tune, feeling as if she was on a camping trip. She could practically feel his eyes on her, but it didn't bother her. After all, it was likely that _she_ was the strange-looking one here – and she couldn't exactly cast stones in that area anyway… how she had stared at some of the bathhouse guests! Lin had to scold her for her rudeness.

(Don't stare at him like that!)

But, she didn't think the man cared much about rudeness, so she didn't mention it. Besides, everyone was nice in their own way. Hoshigaki-san let her share his fire and didn't seem to mind her company, even if he seemed a bit gruff. That was good enough for her.

Chihiro yawned. This world was still very much unknown and the rules still eluded her, but the solid presence next to her was a reassuring enough feeling that she had no trouble drifting off to sleep.

Having someone at your side was always far more important than the rules, anyway.

* * *

><p>Kisame watched the kid drift off to sleep and shook his head in bemusement. He had crossed paths with many civilians in his days, stupid ones, suicidal ones, utterly ignorant ones, but never any so utterly fearless, innocent and <em>warm<em> as this one.

The girl looked at him in a way people _didn't look at him_.

Like he was _human_.

It was ridiculous. _She_ was ridiculous. What a foolish girl to share his fire.

He snorted scathingly and she mumbled in her sleep and shifted _closer_.

Yes, Kisame was sure, there was definitely something _wrong_ with that girl. And her survival instincts. If she'd ever had any in the first place, which is something he was starting to doubt.

She looked very small and very young in the flickering firelight. An innocent. A civillian. Completely out of place in the wilds. Completely out of place in his presence.

He didn't cover her with his own blanket - didn't brush the hair out of her face. He was a shinobi, moreover he was a _missing-nin_, a criminal even amongst killers and liars and manipulative thieves.

So he didn't reach out to her in any visible way.

But he watched her for a long time with something he would have called scorn and any who could see his face might have likened to anything from anger, to surprise or hate.

Not many people could read his face.

And even if someone _could_, they would not dare call it wonder.

Because that is as ridiculous as the girl – _Chihiro_ - who slept the deep, restful, relaxed sleep that only civilian children in their own safe homes could manage. And she slept it here, out in the dark night air, completely lost and utterly alone.

Alone, defenceless, at his merciless mercy.

The girl sighed in contented dreams not a stone's throw away from _him_.

And Kisame could not stop staring at her (in scornful awe).

* * *

><p><strong>A.N.<strong> When I wrote that thing about rules being important, but friendship being even more important I thought about Kakashi (obviously). So yeah, that solidified my desire for a Naruto crossover and yet, _somehow_ I ended up writing Kisame because Chihiro has definitely seen stranger and having a little girl be so _obviously_ not afraid of him and taking his appearance in stride...

Yeah, that seemed funny to me.

Also, I know he's the bad guy and all… (though I haven't really watched far enough into Naruto to know much about him), but I don't think even nukenin enjoy randomly killing everyone they come across just because they can (except maybe Hidan and a few other… unique… individuals).

I think someone like little Chihiro would be refreshing for him.

And uh. Yeah, so parts of this were obviously based on my little character study vignette earlier. Sooo... hope it's not to repetitive.

Also, sometimes I wonder about the weird stuff my mind comes up with.


	6. Strenght and Weakness (Avengers)

**Strength and Weakness**

* * *

><p>He wasn't a fool like the big blonde who liked to call himself his brother.<p>

No, Loki was intelligent and he was well aware of his own strengths and weaknesses as well as those of his opponents.

The Avengers held power and skill, yes, but they were not altogether unbeatable. Every single one of them had their weaknesses. Kept apart, he could beat any of them, even that stupid but strong green monster when it was turned loose.

But they _didn't_ fight alone, and that proved to make things… difficult. All together, they were not that easy to overcome. He had tried several times to divide them in battle, to beat them one by one instead of as a part of a team, but it had never worked. He could distract, capture or render unconscious one or two of them, but the others would band together, set any he captured free and proceed to make the situation rather untenable for Loki.

Perhaps it would have been easier to circumvent the entire issue, to put into action a plan that passed by unnoticed by these foolish humans running around with his- Thor. With Thor.

He was well capable of subtle, when the situation called for it.

And the Avengers could do nothing to stop him if they were not at the site of his attack.

It _would_ be the wiser course of action, Loki knew, and without a doubt he would come out the victor. They would be too late to do anything and his broth- these so-called _Avengers_ would finally be the ones to lose.

He was uniquely suited for working in the shadows, after all.

But. The idea just... rankled.

Perhaps that was how he could beat them. But that was not how Loki _would_ beat them.

It was the principle of it. He didn't _need_ trickery to beat them.

(Well, not any more trickery than was usual for him, in any case.)

Besides, what use was there in winning if his brother wasn't there to witness it? Was that not ever his principal goal?

It was the way of Asgard; victory is not truly victory if it is not witnessed – and then thoroughly boasted about.

Loki wasn't one to boast and the traditions of that world had seemed foolish to him even then.

Asgard didn't matter. It was the past. It held no sway over him any longer.

But nonetheless... Nonetheless he would have his bro- Thor. He would have _Thor_ there.

(He would have his brother witness it, see that Loki, not Thor won, _ruled_, and…

And?)

And he would win.

(Even _he_ was not even entirely certain of the response he sought to elicit from Thor, but he knew he _needed_ there to be a victory over him. Loki would accept nothing less.)

So he stood, all ready to launch an attack on the capital that would boldly announce his presence.

And ready for the imminent arrival of his foes.

(They would come, they always did.)

Word Count: 500

* * *

><p><strong>A.N. <strong>Written for the weekly Flash Fiction Friday prompt on Deviantart about 'commonly confused words' (500 word limit).

(All Ready / Already, Altogether / All Together, Apart / A Part, Passed / Past, etc.)

Heh, my first time writing Loki. Hmm...


	7. Men of Iron and Men of Snow (Avengers)

**Men of Iron and Men (and women) of Snow**

* * *

><p>His magic spread across the square, affecting his surroundings as far as the eye could see. The ground was covered snow and from the wintry ground sentient snowmen, and snowwomen, ascended.<p>

Around him the mortals were confused, staring in wonder at the effect of his spell.

It was quite a sight, if he said so himself. It had been a while since he had used his immanent powers along with his magic.

The humans were uneasy – had noticed him and seemed ready to flee. Except…

Except the snowmen (and snowwomen) were not actually _doing_ anything.

(Because Loki did not _need_ them to do anything more than _be_ – their presence, and his, would summon the Avengers and that was all he required. No need to put more effort in it than necessary. His conscience had nothing to do with it whatsoever.)

"Well, well, if it isn't Queen Elsa," Stark uttered, moments after he had landed with what the man surely thought was an impressive crash.

The other Avengers followed the Iron Man's lead and gathered behind him, keeping a slightly more cautious distance.

But Thor was not there.

(A waste of his time, wasn't it? Not that he _wanted_ to see that stupid blonde, but Thor needed to witness…)

"Hey, this feels like real snow," Hawkeye muttered, his breath condensing in the air, "not one of those little party tricks then."

An allusion to his penchant for illusions, Loki supposed.

"Oh, they are very real, I assure you." He put as much threat, coldness and danger in his voice as he could manage. (It was a lot, he felt.)

Stark waltzed forwards, "Right, frozen princess, I'm sure we are all very terrified of your snowmen."

Loki gathered his magic and took a single step forward as well. He was very satisfied when this subtle threat was enough to draw a response from the Captain.

"Tony, get out of the way!"

"You should listen to your Captain, Man of Iron, it's a wise counsel. Do retreat." His sarcastic smile stretched into a self-satisfied smirk.

As expected, the arrogant human didn't follow his advice and did exactly the opposite: he preceded the rest of his team in an attack that was aimed at wiping that smirk of Loki's face.

His snowmen, and snowwoman, were suddenly not harmless anymore. And the snowballs they threw were made of more than just snow.

Three things happened:

One; Iron Man was sent flying into Captain America, both of them sprawling to the ground in a high-speed whirl of snow, scarves and carrots.

Two; Loki's magic swirled upwards from the ground, the snow floating further up into the air – like snowflakes falling _towards_ the heavens.

Three; The people on the square witnessing this beautiful, magical sight cheered (most were also filming it on their smartphones).

"Hey, you're the bad guy. They're not supposed to be on your side!" Tony Stark called out, fully indignant.

Loki smiled in true amusement.

Perhaps it was not _entirely_ a waste of time.

* * *

><p><strong>A.N. <strong>Written for the weekly Flash Fiction Friday prompt on Deviantart about 'commonly confused words' (500 word limit).

Instead of just choosing one word pair, I did most of them within these two stories. Heh...

Except for, amongst others, Lie / Lay.

That's somewhat ironic, considering...


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